Bill Geist

Bill Geist

A self-described "cat man," Bill Geist goes to the dogs with his new pet, Daphne. I'd always been a cat person - Timmy, Frosty, Burt, Katy, Peaches, Randy, Scooter, just to name a few. But my wife Jody and I flipped over our daughter's new dog, Barkley, and decided we just had to have one, too. Our first … and therein lies a tale. We spent weeks scouring the Internet ("Ooh boy, that's an ugly dog!"). Some were too big (like a bullmastiff - 175 pounds!).

But look at that face! This one seemed just right. Except the dog was in a rescue shelter in Easley, S.C., and we were in an apartment in New York City. But they offered free delivery! They instructed us to meet them at the Vince Lombardi Service Area on the New Jersey Turnpike, which sounded a little … shady. Jody could almost hear the "Sopranos" theme song playing as she waited for the deal to go down on a rainy dog day afternoon. But everything was on the up-and-up. Debra from the shelter arrived after a 15-hour drive, her delivery wrapped with ribbons and bows.

Bill gushed: "You're cuter than your picture." She doesn't look like our other kids. Now, I knew raising a puppy would be a challenge, but I had no idea. You practically have to quit your job. The struggle for a name was only the beginning. Mongo? "Awful!" Banjo? "No, terrible." Cher? "Awful." Loco? "Loco is pretty good." "Lisa Marie appeal to you?" "Never." A bark rang out. "She doesn't like it, either." And so she became Daphne. "She was this long-legged, elegant dog," Jody said. "Daphne, just because Daphne's so elegant." Your whole life's turned upside down. The dog is fighting with the cat who's been hiding in the closet for four weeks; the dog is barking at all hours, and there are guys hauling our carpets out to be cleaned.